


Terrier

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Collars, Ficlet, M/M, Puppy Play, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:24:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4552281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merry proves a good pet to King Théoden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terrier

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Theoden tends to treat Merry like a child or a pet. However, one night, the hobbit shows him that he's not so innocent as he may seem” prompt on [the Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/2320.html?thread=13130768#t13130768).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s tired of feeling useless, and he’s tired of being lonely. It was hard losing Frodo, harder losing more friends and Boromir at once, and hardest losing Pippin. And now he’s all alone, in a sea of too-tall strangers with a handsome king who’s kind to him but often treats him like a child, and Merry wants _more_.

Luckily, they travel in great groups of bored soldiers, all willing to talk to a smiling halfling. He’s heard plenty of rumours in the camps, and he’s also heard them refer to him as _Théoden’s pet_ —something that always makes him shiver. They mean it innocent enough, but it makes him think of Shire games—of being back in Buckland with Pippin and Frodo on all fours, with wagging tails plugged into them and eager, panting tongues. He was often the master, then. But he wouldn’t presume such with a king. Tonight, he’s the one that wears the collar.

He sits by his king’s throne. It’s one for travel, less grand than that in the golden halls, but the tent is comfortable nonetheless. Warm, cozy. Merry sits on a pillow, a few more here and there for the meetings that often come, a thick rug underneath. But the king is absent, and so Merry leans against the chair with his cheek pressed to it, his arms covering himself. It would be a risky move, if he hadn’t listen so well to those beneath this king’s command. When a servant comes in to bring water for the night and check the candles, he barely looks at Merry, and that’s all the confirmation Merry needs. This will be welcome. And if it isn’t, he’ll claim cultural misunderstanding and trudge sadly back to his bunk, hoping that maybe Dernhelm or Elfhelm will ease the loneliness inside him. 

It isn’t long before Théoden returns, having come from some unknown council too casual for the tent. He steps inside, tall and proud, rejuvenated from Gandalf’s hope. The flap falls shut behind him, and he takes a single step forward, then stops. 

He spots Merry, such a small thing in the grand enclosure, but plain to see in the light of the flickering candles. Sheer wonderment crosses Théoden’s face. It’ll be the first time he’s seen a hobbit bare, though Merry knows he isn’t so different from the taller Men. Just short and a little soft, with thick curls atop his large feet. Only the dog collar, borrowed from one of his company, covers any skin. It’s snug against his throat, the pendant hanging silver against his collarbone. He shifts both hands forward, hunching his shoulders together, looks up through thick lashes and purrs, “I might look innocent, my king, but I am an adult with needs, and forgive me, but I think you may be, too.” Théoden remains silent, so Merry adds, biting his lip, “I wondered if my king might like a different kind of pet.”

Amazement is clear in Théoden’s eyes, but to Merry’s delight, _lust_ quickly permeates it. He knows he was right; he’s seen that look before: a hungry man offered a luscious meal. Slowly, Théoden comes closer, while Merry stays bent on all fours. Théoden murmurs, half to himself, “Hobbits are remarkable creatures indeed.” Merry can’t help but grin—Théoden has no idea.

Théoden comes around Merry to sit in his chair, sinking down with a certain heaviness. He’s clad in rich robes atop his armour, and Merry thinks it must be very hot inside them, but Théoden doesn’t seem to notice; he can’t take his eyes off Merry. Merry crawls around, perching right at Théoden’s feet, and he asks, husky and erotic, “What do you like of your pets, Master?”

Théoden’s lips part, but again, nothing comes out. He seems to just be taking Merry in, raking over his compact form, and Merry allows it, instead asking, “That they lick your feet?” He bends, sticking out his tongue to drag it over the top of Théoden’s boot. The taste isn’t pleasant, but it’s worth it when he looks back up to see Théoden’s cheeks staining pink, bright against his golden hair. Merry asks innocently, “Or perhaps their tails?” He thrusts his rear into the air, wiggling it back and forth, though all his plugs with tails attached are in a land far away. Théoden seems to enjoy the view as it is. “Or perhaps,” Merry coos, “their long tongues and wet mouths?” He licks his lips and parts them wide, tongue hanging out, pretending to pant, flushed and staring at Théoden’s bulging crotch. He can only imagine how long and thick his king must be, and hobbit holes are built quite well, always eager to entertain even oversized guests. He prepared himself thoroughly, just in case, and he hopes they’re quick enough that he doesn’t have to pause this fun to do it again. 

Théoden still doesn’t answer, so Merry curls his hands like paws, placing them up on Théoden’s knees. He teases, “I thought the Rohirrim were masters of beasts?”

“You are no animal,” Théoden murmurs, though he eyes Merry ravenously, clearly not protesting. His hand reaches out, landing in Merry’s curls, and Merry leans into it, moaning lewdly. He shifts his thighs around Théoden’s leg and rubs once against it, half to ease his own frustration and half to show his want for his master. Théoden’s hand is large, fingers thick and long, and they pet Merry with a force that leaves his flesh tingling in their wake. 

Merry sighs sincerely, “Tonight, I am your pet.” Théoden’s eyes flash, fierce and feral. 

Merry means to say more, purr and writhe and _beg_ to be fucked, but he doesn’t have to. Théoden orders suddenly, “Turn around.” His tone is firm, commanding, but Merry deduces the play in it.

He crawls in a small circle and lowers his cheek to the rug, thrusting his ass into the air. His knees spread as much as they can. He tries to flex his cheeks apart, presenting his hole. He can feel it twitching under the scrutiny, still wet from his preparation, a bit of stray oil slipping down to his round balls. His cock hangs hard between his legs: proof of his commitment. He has to strain to hold himself poised so, but he does for as long as he can, while Théoden breathes, disbelieving, “You are wet.”

“I prepared myself,” Merry murmurs, thighs trembling, “in case my king might wish to mount me.” He would look back over his shoulder if he could, spear Théoden with a smoldering look, but the position’s too difficult to shift in. He wouldn’t have had the chance. 

There’s a flurry of movement, the rustle of a cape, and suddenly a heavy weight’s draped over Merry, pitching him forward. He’d hit the floor if a strong arm weren’t instantly looped around his middle, large hand splayed across his chest, fingers and palm pressing against his pebbled nipples. He gasps as he’s straightened. He can hear the fiddling of clothes behind him, and he thinks the clasp of a belt coming undone. Théoden nearly growls, “I am larger than you, Master Mariadoc. Can you take me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Merry moans, having hoped for that. His channel clenches in anticipation, hips bucking back, though he can’t quite reach anything for friction. He doesn’t have to wait long. It’s clear that Théoden’s gone a fair time without a lover’s touch, like Merry. If they live all the coming battles, Merry hopes they’ll get a chance to do this again, maybe slower, tender, in the golden halls of Théoden’s home instead of fast and on a rug atop the dirt. It’s been a long time since he had soft sheets to roll around in. 

This will do. Soon there’s the press of a spongy head against him, dragging between his cheeks, rubbing around the puckered brim of his hole. He sucks in a breath, willing himself open. He’d thought of riding his king’s lap, but he won’t at all mind being fucked on all fours like a beast. A hand clutches at his hip, holding him still, and then the cock is pressing forward and driving past his brim.

On the first entry, Merry cries out, glad to know that those beyond the tent’s walls won’t judge his sounds, won’t think less of their king. He’s capable of being quiet in bed, but not now, not with Théoden’s sheer girth, stretching him to his limit. Théoden goes slowly, rocking in and out, deeper every time, but it seems to go on and on, incredibly long, and Merry wishes he’d stopped to look at it. He would’ve liked to admire something so large, kiss and lick it for a blessing, though he’s now sure he couldn’t have taken Théoden down his throat. By the time it’s as far as it can go, hanging balls pressed against his ass, Merry’s nearly screamed himself hoarse, and his arms are shaking. 

Théoden bends over him, all coarse fabric and hard metal, and places a kiss to his shoulder. Théoden asks softly, “Have I hurt you?”

Merry shakes his head, but it takes a moment to rasp, “No, no,” and then, when he can, “ _Please_.” There’s a bit of a burn, but it’s so worth it, and hobbits are more durable than other races given them credit. He rocks his hips back, grinding himself on Théoden’s mammoth cock, and he begs, “Please, I love it, _more_...”

Théoden draws out nearly all the way, only to slam forward, hard and fast and tossing Merry forward. Théoden’s hands hold him, and he needs it; the next thrust is just as brutal. Théoden keeps him steady and caresses him at the same time, pinching his nipples one by one and squeezing at his hip, cock plowing in and out of him. The sounds of it are vulgar, the stench as bad, Merry’s face flushed and panting hard, no longer acting. Théoden might be old, but his strength shines through, and he fucks Merry like a true soldier. It’s the hardest Merry’s ever been fucked in his life.

And he _loves_ it. He feels wanton and needy, but he doesn’t care. He grinds himself back on Théoden’s cock, squeezes around it and marvels at its size, feeling so _full_ he can hardly stand it. He’s become a thin sheath for a massive sword: a mere tool to pleasure his king. He can feel the brush of Théoden’s long, wavy hair along his shoulders, and the occasional kiss, then _bite_ at his back and neck, marring his sweat-slicked skin. He’s pounded into over and over again, until he can barely see straight. His skin feels like it’s on fire, but all he can feel is _pleasure_ , because Théoden stabs that perfect spot every time and _fills_ him so big, rubs his walls and strokes his nipples and kisses his shoulders, and he’s a trembling mess forged just for this purpose. The pendant on his collar stings as it slaps his skin with each thrust, but it’s a pleasant remind of what he is: _property_ of his king.

He’s close to the edge when Théoden fists in his hair, wrenches his face aside and kisses his cheek. The thrusts keep coming, merciless. Théoden hisses, entrenched in the game, “I would not normally spend myself in a dog’s ass.”

“ _Please_ ,” Merry cries, not sensing his cue but just _desperate_ for it, “Théoden, please, _please_ , come in me, fill me up, I want it, I _need_ —” And then Théoden bites into his shoulder again, and Merry _screams_. Théoden’s hand dips to cup between his legs, kneading him, then curling around his cock, and Merry’s vision blurs, his body becoming weightless and his head a thin cloud. He bursts in Théoden’s hand, spilling against the rug and wildly humping Théoden’s fist, even as the thrusts continue to pound him forward. He’s fucked right through his orgasm, and he loves every second. His ass clenches wildly around the enormous cock inside it, and he thinks his lips might be spilling, his release splashing parts of his stomach and smeared by his king’s hand along his cock. He’s a _wreck_ , but he’s still used. 

Théoden finishes a moment later, with a fierce cry and a sudden burst inside Merry. He’s almost too lost to process it, but has one fleeting fear that it won’t all fit—he’s too full—and now he has all of this man’s seed inside him and it doesn’t seem like there’s anywhere for it to go. He can feel it being pounded in, yet still dribbling out around the sides, down his thighs, Théoden spilling far more than him and simply going and going. Merry’s in a blissful daze and takes every bit of it, until there’s nothing left to give.

Then Théoden collapses, dropping them both down. He lands atop Merry, heavy, but the carpet is plush enough to cushion Merry’s cheek, and Merry doesn’t mind being crushed. It was wonderful. He’s too broken to say a word, though as the haze slowly dwindles, his rear becomes sore. Yet he doesn’t bid Théoden to leave.

Théoden speaks first, placing a tender to kiss to Merry’s ear and murmuring, “You truly are a marvel.” Merry smiles but is too breathless for another word. 

Then Théoden lifts up on hands and knees, and his cock slips out of Merry’s ass, dragging a river of seed and oil with it. Merry can feel himself leaking copiously but couldn’t move to clean up if he wanted to. He’s lying in his own puddle, spent and boneless. A hand strokes down his back, petting him sweetly, and Théoden asks, “Would my pet do me the honour of warming my cot tonight?”

Merry groans giddily, but it takes him a while to articulate: “You might have to lead me by the leash: I fear I’m too dizzy to move.”

Théoden chuckles fondly, but he does Merry one better. He bends to scoop Merry up into his arms, turning Merry around and cradling Merry against his chest. Merry sighs, feeling honoured and happy and hoping they can do this again. He means to say as much. 

But he nods off as soon as he’s laid in the pillows, his lover protective and peaceful around him.


End file.
